


A Parting of the Ways

by ausmac



Category: UFO | Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: Paul Foster discovers something rather special about his normally controlled and contained commander.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my very early forays into slash fic and originally appeared in a fanzine (those were the days, fanzines delivered in brown paper bags) (:

The journey back to SHADO HQ from SHADO’s country conference centre was undertaken mostly in silence, with Colonel Paul Foster driving while his chief sat in the passenger seat studying the conference report.  Not that Paul Foster minded that:  the pleasant peace was a refreshing change after months of intense activity. Beside him, Straker lit up another cigarillo and continued to read in relaxed comfort, content to let Foster drive with his usual capable style. 

They had been the last to leave, Straker staying to collect the reports from the secretary so that he could study them straight away.  It looked as though there would be a major reorganisation of SHADO, with the possibility of a missile base being constructed in the Australian Antarctic Territory, a big expensive job, but necessary with the increase in UFO activity and the almost certain advances in alien technology to come.  Henderson had done his usual best to restrict Straker’s monetary demands, pointing out the enormous amounts already spent during the fifteen years of SHADO’s existence.  One moonbase with another under construction, four Skydivers at one hundred million dollars a pop, doubling the number of interceptors and equipping them with the latest laser cannons to supplement their missiles.  The organization that Straker and Freeman had started twelve years before had blossomed into a true world defence system and the trim, elfin, seemingly fragile figure at Foster’s side was commander of the most modern and technologically advanced fighting force on Earth. 

One wrong decision could end human life on Earth and when it came down to the line, Straker had the final voice.  Yet he seemed to have changed little since Foster had joined.  The step was just as sure, he held himself with the same supreme certainty. It wasn’t arrogance it was – what? – an unshakeable faith in himself.  Foster tried to recall one major decision gone awry and couldn’t.  In the hour of humanity’s need it had produced the perfect man for the job.  Like gold sifting out from sand. 

Foster tried to imagine someone else staring at him from across the perfectly neat desk and couldn’t.  SHADO and Straker were one and the same.  He turned the car into a country side road to avoid the freeway traffic and Straker looked up to glance outside the window. 

“Not taking the M11?” 

“Middle of the peak hour.  I know a side loop that cuts out a lot of the mess.  It should save us about half an hour.” 

Straker nodded and flipped a page.  “Good.  I don’t like being away from headquarters a minute longer than necessary at a time like this and these damned conferences are too long-winded for my liking.  Freeman’s a good man, but a sustained yellow alert tends to make everybody a little . . .impetuous.” 

The younger man allowed himself a private smile at the understatement.  Ground stations had been on standby alert for nearly a month now, since a period of particularly heavy sunspot activity had played havoc with the radar equipment.  It had provided perfect cover for a UFO to enter the atmosphere undetected and no-one knew that better than Straker. 

He gave his chief another sidelong glance but Straker seemed to have completely re-immersed himself in the sheaf of papers on his lap.  However, Foster knew that the immediate problems were never far from his mind. 

The commanding g voice interrupted his thoughts.  “Not a lot to be done with this now.  We’ll go over the final details with Alec when we get back then start implementing Phase One.  Anything you don’t understand?” 

Foster ginned.  “When you cut out all the waffle, it’s pretty simple.  I only hope I can measure up to my part of it.” 

Blue-grey eyes turned to him, bright and serious.  “I have every confidence in you. As head of Moon Operations, your responsibilities will be increased but it’s hardly a quantum leap.” 

“Nope.  I’ve just got to be in two places at once, but if you can do it, I don’t see why I can’t!” 

Straker smiled, a genuine warm expression that, when it happened, was always a delight.  “It’s a skill I’ve acquired over the years.  You don’t actually have to be in two places at once, you just make it seem as if you are.” 

As Foster spoke, watching the road and carrying on a conversation at the same time,  Straker watched the handsome face come alive with the laughter.  He quelled the familiar jump of his pulse and cursed himself.  The sooner Paul was up on the Moon and away for his first three months stretch, the better.  For Ed Straker’s peace of mind, anyhow. 

How long had it been?  Ten years?  For ten years he’d tied himself up inside, learned not to feel, not to need.  He had loved his wife and told himself that after she’d left him he’d lost interest in. . .entanglements.  Paul had become a friend as well as a work companion.  Strange, he’d never thought of himself as depraved – ordinary, normal Ed Straker.  One day he would be able to convince himself that all the lies were true.  Perhaps then he could send Paul out into danger and not die a little each time . . .

 

Not far away, in the midst of a parch of woods, the surface of a small lake began to churn.  The water thrashed upwards, disturbing the birds and sending them screaming into the wet sky.  A Silver shape edged out of the water, spinning like an enormous top, flinging sprays of water away as it clawed for height.  At treetop level it hung in position for a few moments as if checking the air, then began to edge along the forest canopy, almost silent except for the muted engine sound and the whooshing of air in its wake. 

 

The elegant coupe sped along the country road and Foster leaned over to switch on the wipers against the first faint streaks of rain.  Humming to himself, he relaxed back onto the padded seat and moved the wheel slightly to take the car around a group of potholes.  As he did he glanced upwards and frowned.  There had been – something – visible for a moment above the trees.  It wasn’t there when he looked again but in the increasing rainfall it was hard to see.  He gave a mental shrug and returned his attention to the road. 

Then, blindingly bright against the dim sky, a streak of fire erupted in front of the car and Foster pulled the wheel, sliding the car sideways.  Straker tossed the folder aside and looked out through the side windows as Foster fought to bring the car back under control. 

Straker’s voice was savage but level.  “Where in hell did that come from?” 

There was another tearing blast and the sound of tyres exploding as the car bucked and spun around.  It tore across the grass at the side of the road and slammed up against a tree. 

“Out!”  Straker was already opening the door and throwing himself out of the car.  Foster followed and rolled through the grass, searching for their attacker through the trees.  There it was, a very familiar shape hovering not a hundred feet above them.  He picked himself up and started to run after Straker into a denser patch of trees.  There was another flash and he heard, then felt, the car explode behind them.  He saw Straker flung to the ground by the blast and crawled over to him. 

“Are you alright?”  He noticed a long gash in Straker’s right leg below the knee where a piece of debris from the explosion had caught him.  Linking his arms under the other man’s chest, he dragged him into cover. 

“No good here.”  Straker’s voice was a hiss of controlled pain.  “Those blasts will go straight through the trees.  Got to find cover.” 

Foster could hear the increasing whine as the UFO moved towards then and he looked about, desperate.  There were some hills just beyond the trees and in the gloom he thought he saw a darker patch, perhaps a cave mouth. 

“A cave.  Over there.” 

Straker’s dilated gaze followed the direction of Foster’s outstretched arm.  “Could be, but you’ll have to help me.  When we break cover, they’ll fire.” 

Straker climbed to his feet, then stumbled as he put weight on the injured leg.  Heedless of dignity, Foster hoisted the injured man over his shoulder and scrambled across the uneven ground, weaving a zig-zag to confuse the UFO’s aim.  Shots hissed down around them but somehow he made it into the rocks and up the short incline.  He threw himself into the cave and another blast erupted nearby and he felt the ground shudder.  Then, with the ominous rumble of an avalanche, all daylight disappeared through the cave mouth as dirt and rock tumbled down around the entrance. 

Paul dragged Straker to the very end of the tunnel and they both rested against the earth wall, gasping in great gulps of air. Straker shifted upright and pulled a small torch from his pocket.  Switching it on, he trained the beam on the damp, muddy walls around him.  They could hear the alien ship firing relentlessly into the ground – then it cut off abruptly and the firing moved away. 

“Looks like he’s given up for the moment.”  Straker lowered the beam to focus on his leg.  It was a long gash, deep and seeping blood.  Foster moved to sit beside him and pulled out a large handkerchief. 

“The wound looks fairly clean, though I wouldn’t mind some water to wash it with.” 

Straker sat still while Foster tore the trouser fabric away and wrapped the square handkerchief around the wound.  

“Well,” Straker said through clenched teeth, “I’d very much like to know how that happened.” 

“So would I.”  Foster shook his head as he wiped his hands on his own pants.  “Got through our defences, knew just where we were.  Not good.” 

Straker leaned back against the cave wall and switched off the torch to conserve the batteries.  In the darkness, his voice rang cold and angry.  “When we get out of here the duty staff with have some explaining to do.” 

 

Straker tossed in troubled sleep and Paul touched gentle fingers to the wet forehead.  Warm, the wound was infected and his chief had developed a fever.  He brushed back the damp, silver hair carefully.  His watch told him they’d been trapped there for twenty-six hours and things were not looking good. 

They’d passed the first few hours in a mood of optimism;  someone would find them soon, would dig through the fall of rock and earth that they hadn’t been able to budge.  After those hours passed without any sign of movement of sound they wondered at the delay.  Then the worry set in, the worry that no-one would come and they would die there, in the dark under the ground. 

The problem was that the ground crews might find the car, destroyed and abandoned, the obvious victim of UFO attack and with no sign of them it could be assumed they’d been taken by the aliens and removed from Earth.  There was hardly any reason to suspect they were within a hundred yards of the wrecked car, locked under the earth. 

Foster had investigated the entire dimensions their prison, found the small hole that allowed air in but no escape.  They had some water from seepage, muddy and foul-tasting, but enough to keep them alive.  They’d started a small fire with dry brush and twigs that had blown in and had enough of such fuel to keep the small fire going for some hours.  It hadn’t seemed necessary to worry beyond that time, but now it seemed that they would die there in the dark, he of starvation and Straker – well, if the wound was infected then his death would be worse. 

No, Paul thought as he looked down into the pale face, it came to that he would fine some way to may it easier for him. 

Paul sat with his back propped against the cave wall, Straker’s head on his lap.  Straker had fallen into troubled sleep, tossing and turning, mumbling barely heard words that kept Foster awake with worry.  Realising that it was pointless to try and sleep, Paul sat staring into the shadows.  He decided he didn’t care much for dying that way, little by little in a hole under the ground.  In action, yes, preferably flying.  Still, if he had to go, he couldn’t have chosen a better companion.  No, on second thought, the world needed Ed Straker alive and well and outside.  The world, and Paul Foster, would be happier with both of them outside under the sky. 

“ .. .Paul . . .” 

Foster looked down but Straker hadn’t spoken consciously.  The name had been whispered from the depths of a fever dream, said in a strangely gentle way that sounded odd from that normally reserved, cool figure.  

“. . .Paul . . .don’t leave me. . .” 

The voice was soft but anguished and Foster felt Straker shiver.  He gathered him into his arms and held him, trying his share his warmth. 

“Hey, Ed, I’m right here, its ok.” 

Straker’s hand clenched around his and the eyes opened, fever bright, delirious.  “Don’t leave me…need you…” 

“I won’t.  I can’t.  And I wouldn’t anyway.” 

The bright, unfocused gaze swept the darkness. “Where’s Alec?  Get Alec, would you Paul?” 

“He’ll be here soon.  Just rest.” 

Paul looked into the pale face, saw that awareness was slipping away as Straker slid deeper into the fever.  He felt a sudden, strange protectiveness. The Straker he knew so well was so strong, so competent and had no need or protection.  This one needed his help, his warmth and his touch, seemed strangely content even in his illness to rest against him.  They all needed to be strong, to protect the innocent, unknowing millions of Earth and Straker needed to be the strongest of all, their anchor, their pillar of steel.  His grip on the shivering body strengthened and he felt Straker sigh and slip his own arms around him.  The pale hair rested against his shoulder and the long lashes drooped against the damp cheeks. 

“Good. . .”  Straker’s voice was a dry shadow of its normal strength.  “Feels good.. .warm.” 

Paul smiled, tried to find something light hearted to think, to say.  “If you were yourself, you wouldn’t say that.  Snugly isn’t something I’ve exactly worked on for my resume.  And it isn’t something you’d want to say to me.” 

“I would…if I could…if I could tell you…” Straker sighed, his hand sliding limply down Paul’s arm.  “…if only I could tell you . . .” 

“You can tell me anything, Ed, you know that.” 

“…not that I love you . . .” 

Paul’s world tipped slightly on its axis and he felt a chill run through his body.  Delirium, it had to be delirium.  He couldn’t have just heard his amazing, much-loved chief say that. 

“Could you…explain that, Ed?” 

“No, can’t explain.  Secret.”  The voice was very soft, more of a loud whisper and Paul bent his head closer to hear. “My secret.  Not allowed to . . .tell.” 

Paul said nothing, could say nothing.  He felt Straker’s body relax back into unconsciousness with something like relief.  It gave him time to think, to realign his world and think. 

Straker loved him.  And how did HE feel about that?  Well, surprisingly excited, actually.  His feelings for Straker had passed from initial suspicion to professional respect to – what?  He’d happily give his life to save this man and Straker had done the same for him.  Foster had realised, in some part of his psyche, that they had a bond, an understanding beneath the professionalism.  But he’d thought it a platonic thing.  Obviously, what Ed felt wasn’t platonic. 

Love, friendship, respect and trust, all blended into what they felt for each other.  He’d never considered it because it had never seemed possible.  Now, he considered it.  It was possible, and intriguing. 

Feeling strangely at peace, Paul took Straker’s secret down into sleep, his head dropping down to rest next to Straker’s, arms still wrapped around each other as the fire faded and died. 

 

Alec Freeman raised his eyes from the uneven ground to acknowledge the young voice at his side. 

“Ultrason equipment fully rigged and operating, Sir.” 

“Very good.  Continue scanning the entire area and inform me of any irregularity,” he added with perhaps too frantic a pitch in his voice.  He lowered his eyes to hide the lapse. 

“Yes sir,” the young voice answered with uncertainty and moved away. 

He knew his detachment was crumbling under the weight of personal concern.  Ed Straker was one of his oldest friends and Foster had become a friend in the few years he’d known him.  The twisted piece of gold metal at his feet bore sad testimony to their fate. 

Routine scans had revealed a UFO that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, but that in itself was not entirely unusual.  They had been on alert for just such an occurrence for weeks.  The most disturbing factor was that the ship had surfaced in a heavily-wooded area not fifteen miles from the last reported position of the bronze car carrying two of SHADO’s most irreplaceable officers. 

Then everything had seemed to happen at once.  Just as the orders to mobilise Sky One and notify Straker had left Freeman’s lips, the commander’s car alarm light began to flash an insistent warning from the control panel.  In precise terms, either the vehicle or the passengers themselves had been rendered “inoperative”. 

The UFO had remained stationary for over twenty minutes and scanners had indicated heavy firing activity, a clear message of its intent. 

When they had arrived on the scene – was it only twenty-four hours earlier? – it was to find the tiny ship blasting the nearby hills to rubble.  It had continued in its suicide mission even as Sky One had lined it up within its sites.  They had destroyed the ship on Straker’s standing orders.  Had they been taken by the UFO then Freeman knew they would have died mercifully in the explosion. 

The surrounding area had been scouted for their mutilated bodies; standard procedure after a UFO attack, and the forensic teams had taken samples from the charred wreckage of the car for examination but they had drawn a blank on both counts.  Yet Alec could not shake the image of the alien ship blasting away at the hillside with deadly and apparently insane intent.  He had ordered ultrasonic equipment to detect discontinuities in the rock strata and infra-red scanners to locate body heat.  If Straker and Foster were alive in one of the caves, if they were by some miracle alive, then the scanners would tell them where to start digging. 

Few men had the skill to control an organization like SHADO and even fewer could be trusted with the power.  Ed Straker’s dedication was its own check and Paul was just as dedicated in his own way.  Their loss would cripple SHADO for years. 

Foster was dragged back to awareness by the loud crashing of rocks around him and he instinctively huddled up, covering his unconscious commander with his body.  Pushing himself back against the wall he tried to curl up to avoid the chunks of rock that fell around him.  Then the crashing stopped and the darkness was split by light as a hole appeared in the cave roof. 

“Commander Straker, Colonel Foster – can you hear me?” 

Paul looked up and saw a face peering down, highlighted by the blinding light of day behind it.  Blinking, he answered in a croaking whisper. 

“Alive – Straker’s hurt – hurry!” 

Within minutes the hole had been widened enough to allow one of the rescue medics to clamber down.  Foster let his charge be taken from him, strapped to a stretcher and hoisted through the hole.  He clambered up after it, helped by willing hands till he emerged into daylight and fresh air.  Alec was there, his pleasant face wrinkled in concern.  Paul tried to explain but the world was doing strange things and he felt the stinging tingle of a hypo in his arm that pushed him into a dark comfortable sleep.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later Straker was at his desk, the pile of reports before him shrinking gradually as he worked his way through him with steady patience.  Across from him, Alec Freeman looked up from his own reading to give his superior and friend yet another careful scrutiny. 

Straker’s complexion was even paler than usual and the circles had not completely disappeared from beneath his eyes, but this Straker was a vast improvement on the physical wreck that had been rushed to SHADO’s medical centre.  The blood poisoning had been serious and for a time it looked as though it might cause a problem.  The doctors had fought it long and hard, helped by their patient’s own tremendous will to live. 

/ /He should be recuperating, resting// thought Alec sternly, but Straker had said he couldn’t simply lie in bed while his work waited for him.  So, albeit grudgingly, the doctors had let him return to light duties. 

Few men really understood Ed Straker, yet Alec Freeman knew him better than most and he sensed some sort of strain in the trim body not connected with the illness.  He seemed preoccupied, and Freeman would sometimes catch him staring into space, a small frown puckering the usually even features.  Ed Straker wasn’t given to wool-gathering so Alec guessed it had something t do with the time spent in the cave. He didn’t know, precisely, what had taken place during those twenty-eight hours and neither Straker nor Foster had discussed it.  A perverse sense of curiosity pushed him to speak, his voice controlled and casual. 

“Paul seems to be settling in well to his new job.” 

Straker’s head came up abruptly and for a moment a strange expression flickered in his eyes.  “Yes.  So it seems.” 

He returned to his reading and Freeman’s eyebrows twitched together.  So it was Paul.  What had happened between those two?  Alec’s very healthy curiosity was stirred but he knew it would do not good to dig.  If Ed wanted to tell him, he would.  Prying into Straker’s private life was one way to earn a very sharp put down.  If it was a professional matter Alec would have heard about it by now, so obviously it was personal, and not something he could dig into.  He gave a mental shrug and returned to his reading.

 

* * *

 

Straker looked at the page before him, the words meaningless.  For the hundredth time he tried to remember what he had said in the cave, what he had told Paul but everything was muddled and misty.  Memories of actual events were intermingled with delirium and dream.  Had he told Paul something foolish, something he’d sworn never to tell anyone, especially Paul?  Or had he simply dreamed it?  An impossible situation – he had to know, the uncertainty would drive him crazy. 

“I’ll be going up to Moon Base, Alec.”  He looked across at Freeman and noted the scowl of growing disagreement.  “No, I feel fine.  I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t.  There’s a lot to be done and I can’t do it from here.” 

“Paul’s up there.  Let him handle it, it’s what we pay him for.” 

“I am aware of that.  When the procedures and operations are underway there won’t be any need for me to go, but I want to ensure all the procedures are being followed and I want to check the new computer systems have integrated well.  Besides,” he smiled briefly, “..its been some time since I visited Moon Base.  They need to see I’ve got my eye on them.” 

Freeman nodded and left to organise the trip and two days later the lunar shuttle touched down on the Moon Base landing platform. 

Straker stepped out into the arrival lounge carrying his ever-present briefcase.  Commander Ellis, Paul Foster and a number of other officials met him and he acknowledge each one with his usual cool efficient courtesy.  He tried not to stare at Paul, looking trim and elegant in his one-piece silver jumpsuit, tried not to notice how carefully Paul was watching him.  It was only concern for his health.  He hoped that was all it was. . . 

Straker spent the afternoon studying reports on the construction of the second base, situated half a world away.  Unlike the first, it was built underground, submerged into the hard moon defences. He treated Paul the same as the other officers present and if anyone noticed the return of the old cold, computer-efficient Straker, no-one commented. 

The change wasn’t lost on Paul however.  Straker had mellowed over the years, losing none of his sharp intellect but seeming to become more human, more approachable – but the Straker who discussed operational parameters and efficiency ratings with Foster was so untouchably unemotional that he wondered if he’d been the one suffering from delirious dreams. 

After a tiring day of endless discussion made more uncomfortable by an emotional restraint he found particularly galling, Foster retired to his quarters for a lonely dinner and an intense round of personal evaluation. 

The hardest thing of all was the silence.  Over the lat few weeks there had been no-one he could discuss the matter with.  It was a sensitive and personal matter, not easily raised.  Straker had lain mostly unconscious in hospital during his illness and Paul had left for Moonbase within days of their rescue.  There had been no time to talk and Straker’s visit was the first time they had been together since then. 

It wasn’t quite true to say that Straker had shown no signs of stress or discomfort.  To someone who knew him so well, his very coolness was a signal.  He was holding everyone at arms’ length – almost as though it was camouflage of his need to keep one particular person distanced.  If the others saw anything, they would put it down to the circumstances of his injury and his normal natural reticence. 

As he sat fiddling with his dinner, his door chime rang and he looked up, surprised. 

“Yes?”

“Colonel Foster, may I come in?”  It was Straker and Foster felt his pulse leap in a sudden rush of tension. 

“Of course, sir.”  The door slid open and Straker stepped through.  He stood inside the door for a moment, then moved across the room and sat in a chair opposite Paul.  His expression was even, the blue eyes steady. 

“I’d like to talk to you, Paul.”  He stopped and looked down at his hands.  Paul waited for a moment, then frowned slightly.  Was he imagining it, or was Straker nervous? 

“Yes sir.  If its about the report on the power plant, I’ll have it. . .” 

Straker cut in abruptly. “No.  It’s personal.  About the cave.  I want to talk to you about what I may have said during my illness.” 

Paul waited, watched the pale fingers grip each other reflexively.  He suddenly knew that Straker was worried, and he knew why.  He’d revealed something to Paul that no-one had ever seen or guessed and the vulnerability worried him. 

After a moment Straker looked up at Paul and licked his lips.  “While I was delirious I may have said things that wouldn’t have seemed rational.  I say ‘may’ because I’m not certain.  I need to clarify what I said, did.”  As he spoke he stood and began to pace back and forth across the small room.  As Straker paced Paul became aware that his Commander was nervous, such an unnatural state that he didn’t quite know how to respond.  He looked down at his own larger, darker hands as he spoke with deliberate care. 

“Most of us go through life building a picture of ourselves, an internalisation of who we are.  We get to a certain age and think the picture is complete.  Then something happens to throw all the angles out and puts the whole thing out of whack.” 

Straker stopped and looked down at Paul, a slight frown pinching the pale eyebrows together.  “Does that mean something within the context of my question?” 

“Yes.”  He smiled up into the features that he unexpectedly found himself admiring.  Straker was beautiful in a way all his own, a dichotomy in the truest sense.  Elegant fragility combined with unbreakable strength of will.  The grace of a dancer with the mind of a predator.  His own most cherished master.  “You want to know if you revealed an important truth to me.  You did.  You told me you loved me.” 

Straker’s eyes widened even as his mouth tightened.  “I thought so.” 

Foster nodded, aware of how carefully he needed to tread.  “What you told me made me think, made me look at a number of things in a new light.  I’ve always done well with women, but nothing lasted, nothing meant anything.  The only person in my life who actually, truly means anything is standing in front of me.”  He looked into those watchful eyes, so familiar, so intent.  “I suppose you’ll say it was the raving of delirium or that I should forget it, out of a sense of duty.” 

Straker smiled briefly. “The latter, most likely.  I wouldn’t ascribe to raving, not matter the circumstances.  I’m not being flippant but I refuse to become embroiled in an emotional scene.” 

“Reasonable thinking.  A lie, but reasonable.”  Paul watched Straker’s expression cloud over with anger as he held up his hand.  “There should be truth between us, as there always has been.  While I may not be in love with you, I do love you.  There’s a fine distinction there but it’s one I’d never bother with for anyone but you.  And everything is open to change.” 

Foster saw the barest flicker of distress on Straker’s face before he turned away.  “I think that’s enough,” he said in his best ‘I won’t be argued with’ tone. 

Paul shook his head slowly.  “Running away won’t solve anything, Ed.” 

Straker’s head whipped around.  “I have never run from anything in my life.” 

“Then stay.  Talk.”  Paul’s head dipped towards the chair next to him.  “Sit.  I won’t bite.”  He grinned suddenly.  “Unless you want me to.” 

Straker chose to ignore the facetious comment and sat next to Paul, stiff and upright.  “I don’t believe there’s much more to be said,” he said slowly.  “You seem to regard this matter in a somewhat strange light.” 

“Why?  Because I didn’t blanch in horror?  I’m very liberal you know.  And I didn’t say I was entirely uninterested.” 

Straker began to speak again, to talk in a calm, reasonable voice about logic and sense and duty, attempting to put some distance between them that had nothing to do with physical space.  Paul realised that Ed wouldn’t – couldn’t – initiate any move himself.  It was too much to ask of his unbendable image of The Way Things Were.  It’s up to me, he thought, I have to do it because he wants me to.  Because Straker had stayed, not just from pride but because he wanted, needed, to be there.  With him. 

He twisted in the chair, took a deep breath and consigned his future to the gods.  He slipped one arm around the rigid shoulders, pulled Straker close and bent his head to take Straker’s mouth in a deep, warm kiss. 

Shocked surprise held him still for a moment, then he reacted.  He put his hands on Paul’s chest and tried to push him off but Paul held him in a firm grip, his back pressed against the seat, body wedged into the back and corner so that he couldn’t move.  

And then he didn’t want to.  All awareness was centred on those lips pressing against his mouth, the hard body so close to him that he could feel its warmth.  Without conscious volition his hands slipped down and around Paul’s back and then he was holding and being held, feeling warm lips trace down to his chin and throat.  It was as if his body had come alive under the touch, aware that the one person he truly needed was finally with him.  It broke all restraints, pushed all logic aside.  Nothing mattered in those seconds but the primal needs of his body. 

A sense of power filled Paul.  Instinctively he knew that Ed Straker need this, wanted to be overcome, to have his body manipulated and loved, needed the kind of physical domination that his powerful will would never normally allow.  It was the ultimate fantasy for him and a kind of satisfaction that only Paul could give him. 

Gathering the slim body more firmly to him, he stood and lifted Straker up.  He moved across to the bed in a smooth flow of movement allowed by the Moon’s lower gravity.  Straker tried for one more protest.  

“Paul . . .don’t . .” 

He looked down into the wide gaze, seeing the uncertainty battling with the newly born passion. 

“Tell me, order me to stop, and I will.  You’re the boss.”  He slipped down beside Straker, pulled him against his chest, then let his hands run down across the slim hips to feel the already tight bulge of arousal at Straker’s groin.  Straker groaned and arched against the stroking hand.  The words of denial died and Paul nodded, eyes half closed, felt his own body stirring in the rapid burn of arousal. 

“No?  You can lie, perhaps, but you’re body can’t, any more than mine can.”

  
He slid one hand up to the zip of Straker’s jumpsuit and pilled it open slowly.  The firm, pale chest was covered in a soft down of silver hair and he bent his slips to it, ran his lips and tongue over the warm skin, tasting salt and cologne.  Eyes closed, he slid his tongue under the edge of the material to the hidden nipple, then nuzzled it gently, felt it rise and harden under his mouth. 

Straker’s hands grasped Paul’s shoulders frantically and he moaned.  His control was rapidly fading as warmth spread through him, focused on those parts of his body that Paul touched, a tingling electric thrill he had almost forgotten.  A small voice told him that it didn’t matter now, that Paul knew everything, that he had gone too far to just walk away.  He could enjoy that night, even if it was never repeated, enjoy being with him and having his touch.  Just for once. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at the bent head, ran his fingers through the thick glossy hair.  He felt Paul’s tongue run across his chest and touch the other nipple, felt it rise and firm under the touch of teeth and hot breath.  Inundated by stimuli he sighed and squirmed.  Paul looked up, flushed and smiling. 

“Well?  Do I stop?” 

Straker shook his head. “No, too late now.” 

Paul was momentarily puzzled by the choice of words but was diverted from it as Straker’s hands moved to his chest, slipping under the lounge robe he wore to run down to his stomach.  Reaching out, he pulled the zip all the way down and worked the jumpsuit away from Straker’s body.  He shrugged out of his own robe so that they lay together, flesh on flesh.  He slid on top of Straker, slipped one leg between the other man’s thighs so that their bodies fitted more closely together. 

Straker arched back, closed his eyes and let his hands run down over the firmly muscled back.  It felt so very good, he could hardly moved, he was weighed down, imprisoned under the wonderful body and he didn’t care. 

He relaxed under Paul’s hands as they wandered down his chest and stomach and around his behind.  He was pulled closer against the hard chest and felt lips on his, forcing his mouth open, claiming a long succulent kiss.  Paul’s mouth tasted of wine, something he hadn’t tasted in years.  Then he began moving, stroking his body up and down against Straker’s till they were both fully aroused and hard.  Paul’s fingers slipped between the rounded buttocks even as Ed’s hands came to rest on Paul’s own muscled thighs and they both shuddered. 

Displacing Ed’s hands, Paul slipped down and worked his face into the silvery hair of Straker’s groin.  

“Beautiful,” he muttered, his breath stirring the soft hair, “you’re blonde everywhere.  Did I ever mention I have a soft spot for blondes?” 

He felt the body beneath him shiver under the stimulation of his breath and smiled.  Straker was beyond words and it was a heady thing to know he’d reduced one of the finest minds on or off Earth to irrationality. 

He hadn’t done this before, had never really considered it but being a man he knew very well what pleased a man.  Using his tongue and teeth with gentle control he sucked and nipped his way over balls and penis, finally taking the swollen hot flesh that thrust up towards him into his mouth. 

He was rewarded by having his lover convulse, the pale body whiplashing with pleasure.  Hands grabbed his hair with painful pressure, holding him tightly as Straker cried out in a voice Paul had never heard.  The primal, animal voice of pleasure. 

This time was for Ed and his own satisfaction took second place, but he was able to reach down and stroke himself to a matching arousal.  As they lay together, his mouth around Straker’s rigid cock, his own hand around himself, Paul knew an intense feeling of completeness, rightness.  And then he was lost in the driving heat of convulsive pleasure as Ed surged up, thrust himself deep into Paul’s throat and came with a shuddering groan.  Paul swallowed the pulsing rush of semen and pulled back with a matching groan as his seed shot out across Straker’s legs. 

Tired but satisfied, Paul sank down onto the bed and gathered Straker into his arms.  There didn’t seem to be anything that needed to be said and he didn’t think he’d be capable of rational discussion anyhow.  Sighing, he linked his legs around Straker’s body, rested his head on the soft hair and slipped into sleep. 

Tired as he was, Straker didn’t sleep immediately.  His body seemed to be glowing and he felt very much alive.  Pressed up against the warm, damp figure beside him, his head lying against the dark-furred chest, he could hear the steady beat of Paul’s heart. 

/ /This doesn’t solve anything.  Nothing has changed – and everything has.  The Commander of SHADO and the head of Moonbase Operations cannot be lovers.  We both have responsibilities more important than our own personal satisfaction.  How can I carry out my job under such circumstances, and how can he?  Paul is far too emotional, too easily swayed by personal needs.  Even if he wouldn’t admit it, he’d use our relationship in ways that would eventually destroy both of us.  He’s only human, God knows I am, too.  I could send him to his death if I had to, but he couldn’t do the same.  As much as I love him I can’t allow myself to be swayed by personal need.  There’s too much at stake.  Too much. . .// 

A small, very human voice cried wordlessly at the bottom of his mind but he ignored it, as he so often had.  He had given in to his needs this once, but no more.  He wondered, as he drifted to sleep, if it would be enough.  For the rest of his life. 

It would have to be, for he could afford to give no more.

 

 

Straker was woken by warm lips on his eyelids and a wet tongue making lazy circles on his cheeks and neck.  His eyes flickered open and for a moment he thought himself lost in the old familiar fantasy,  till reality hit him squarely between the eyes – and he remembered. 

Paul’s hand was doing disturbing things between his legs and a lewd chuckle greeted his compulsive shudder. 

“How do you like this for a wake-up call?  Best way I know to rise and shine!” 

Straker yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes, wiped away the grit of sleep with a hand that shook only very slightly.  He blearily looked across into disgustingly wide-awake blue eyes and smiled. 

“Very original  Hard to copyright, though.” 

Paul opened his arms and Straker slid closer, wrapped his own arms around the solid body and Paul tipped Ed’s face up with one strong hand.  Looking down into the placid features, he smiled, eyebrows rising. 

Straker ignored the questioning look and pressed his lips to Paul’s, opening his mouth to the questing tongue, tasting warmth and gentle passion. 

“Hmm,” Paul pulled back and nuzzled his face into the pale, ruffled hair.  “And good morning to you, Commander.  No-one should taste that good in the morning.” 

“A healthy lifestyle and the best cigars money can buy,” Straker murmured, allowing his body to mould itself into the contours of Paul’s taller form, refusing to twitch.  If he allowed one glimmer of his intentions to show through, Paul would persuade him to change his mind.  Paul had a power he probably didn’t even recognise yet – the power to manipulate Ed Straker. 

“We have a meeting to attend at 0900.  What time is it?” 

“0800,” Paul murmured, seeing the clock’s reflection in the mirror.  “More than enough time for a little more R&R…” 

They almost didn’t make the meeting.  Straker was amazed at how fast time good pass, of how easy it was to forget everything important when Paul held him and stroked him until he writhed and begged for more.  The night’s passion was repeated and Straker wondered at the expertise with which Paul took him to the edge of release, withhold it and drive him to a peak of ecstasy.  The pleasure of climax was almost a pain in its intensity. 

For Paul, the sex was good but it was also the company that made it special.  It was especially nice to lie quietly in the afterglow, holding Straker against him, skin to skin.  He was warmed by the knowledge that he was loved, that this strong, enigmatic man had trusted him with his body and his emotions more than he had done with anyone in a long time.  Straker said little during their loving, except for the uncontrolled worlds that any lover spoke.  He gave so little of his thoughts away and Paul wondered if he would ever truly know him.  It didn’t matter, not then.  He had found something better than the occasional lays that had supplied his sexual outlets, he’d found someone he loved and trusted with his life.  Someone that loved him in return. 

When they arrived for the first meeting of the day there was little outward sign of what had passed between them.  Straker was his usual brusque, precise self, Foster attentive and efficient.  Although nothing had been said, Paul fully appreciated that outward signs of affection in public would be repugnant to Straker and he respected his lover’s need to avoid embarrassment.  Straker himself was just a little nervous that Paul would do something out of sheer devilment, but as the day proceeded his nerves calmed and he managed to give no indication of anything untoward. 

Foster was called away in the afternoon to check on construction plans and Straker took the opportunity to visit Dr Jackson in the medical centre.  The dour, quiet man greeted him calmly and Straker began without delay – and asked remarkably astute questions, so that Straker wondered whether the man might be telepathic. 

“Well,” Jackson said in his usual quiet drawl, “as you know, the drug you mention is an improvement on our standard one but, unlike the old version, is memory specific.  That is, it can be administered and while the patient is still partially aware, they can be instructed to forget a specific episode or event in the subject’s recent past.  It does not work on very broad events, such as years of a person’s life, but – for example – being witness to a UFO event can be removed from their memory.” 

“Good.”  Straker began to pace and Jackson watched him with clinical interest.  He knew his Commander well, it was his purpose to monitor the physical and mental condition of all of SHADO’s personnel, especially that of its command staff.  He had known that Straker was under stress, seemed preoccupied and this was obviously central to that tension. 

“I assume you have a specific subject in mind?” Jackson asked. 

“Yes, Doctor, a very specific subject.”  Straker stopped, held his hands behind his back and looked out through the thick glass of the window at the static moonview.  “Colonel Foster.” 

“Indeed?  Most unusual.  May I know why?” 

Straker shook his head abruptly.  “No.  I want you to administer it tonight.  I’ll make sure he knows nothing about it.  Tell me how to handle him while he is under its effects and I’ll do the rest.”  He turned back, locked eyes with Jackson, holding the cool gaze with his own fierce intent stare.  “You may be assured of my moral stance here, Doctor – there is no way I would hurt Colonel Foster.  And this must go no further than this room.” 

Jackson nodded, his sharp mind beginning to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.  “Very well.  Will that be all?” 

Straker smiled wearily, eyes dulling.  “Yes.  I’ll contact you this evening.” 

Jackson watched Straker leave and sat in silence, analysing and contemplating his conclusions.  “The Commander and Foster,” he said softly, tidying his already immaculate desk.  “My psychological profiles were accurate after all.  He has chosen one path to follow of two he could have taken.  Which will be his final choice?” 

Jackson smiled to himself and shook his head.  Only time would tell. 

 

The afternoon passed in a tense haze for Straker, and in eagre anticipation for Foster.  After dinner in the base cafeteria, the two men continued to discuss business all the way back to Straker’s quarters.  As soon as the door closed behind them Foster turned and pulled Straker to him, linked his arms around the shorter man and looked down into the attractive features with anticipation. 

“Paul . . .you’re crushing my report . . .”  Straker struggled to pull the folder out from between them, and Foster laughed. 

“I have had it up to here with reports,” he murmured, kissing the nearest point on Straker’s face he could reach – which happened to be his nose.  Straker laughed, an abrupt choking sound that Paul had never heard before and he arched back for better observation.  His Commander’s face was flushed with humour and the blue eyes were bright. 

“There is much of the little boy in you, Colonel.” 

Paul assumed a contrite expression.  “I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.” 

The blue eyes became veiled and the lips curled in speculation.  “No?” 

Growling, Paul leant down to kiss the waiting mouth and the report dropped to the floor, forgotten.  When he at last managed to surface for air, Straker found the strength to push Paul away. 

“Patience, young man, is a virtue.  Haven’t you heard that old saying?” 

“Patience!  I’ve been patient all day.  What’s going on in that cunning brain of yours?” 

Straker crossed to the bedside table. “I have a present for you, a little surprise.”  Reaching down behind the table, Straker pulled up a bottle in an ice bucket and two glasses, and placed them on the table.  Interested, Paul crossed to the table and picked up the chilled bottle. 

“Brut Ciron, ’81.  But – how?  And you don’t drink?” 

“Normally, no.  But this is a special occasion.” 

Shocked, Paul sank into a chair and watched Straker decork the wine and pour out a glass.  He handed the first one to Paul and poured one for himself before moving to sit beside Paul on the sofa. 

“You’re becoming debauched,” Paul said as he drank the wine and curled one arm around the slim shoulders.  “Me and a good French wine in one twenty-four hour period.”  

Straker said nothing but sat watching Paul drink his wine, allowing himself the luxury of leaning back against the warm body, twining his fingers with Paul’s.  Gradually, the eyelids began to droop and Straker moved quickly to catch the glass as it slipped from suddenly numb fingers.  Within a few seconds Paul was deeply and unknowingly unconscious. 

He looked down at the sleeping face and squashed a powerful urge to weep.  Bending, he kissed the warm mouth one final time before switching on the communicator. 

“Dr Jackson, you can come in now.”

 

 

Paul Foster woke the next morning with an odd sense of loss.  Something wasn’t quite right.  He sat up and looked around, tried to puzzle through the wrongness.  He was in bed in his quarters on Moonbase and that was fine.  His alarm had woken him at the proper hour, with plenty of time to get ready for Straker’s planned visit to the construction site. 

He slipped out of bed and took a leisurely shower, puzzled but still not sure why.  Cleaned, shaved and dressed, he walked slowly to the cafeteria, greeting those he met along the way with a distracted courtesy.  Straker and Ellis where already there and they both smiled at him in welcome as he sat opposite them. 

“Not looking your usual bright self,” Gay said, pushing the coffee across the table to him.  “Late night?” 

“No.  Just a bit out of this morning.  It will pass.”  He looked across at Straker and saw that his chief was studying him intently.  He felt a jolt of – something – pass through him – as he looked into the familiar sharp blue gaze.  It was unexpected.  It was also very familiar.  Why should he feel a sudden flash of tenderness for Commander Straker? 

Straker watched the flashing play of emotions on Foster’s face and knew a sudden deep fear.  It the treatment had failed . . .if  . . 

“Are you all right, Colonel?”  His voice was exceptionally even. 

“Yes sir, fine.  Just feeling a little frayed.  Must be more tired than I thought.” 

“If you’ll excuse me, Commander, Paul, I have to go check that the buggy is ready to leave.”  

Straker nodded at Ellis and turned back to Paul.  “If you’re not feeling up to the trip, Paul, you can stay behind.  It isn’t essential you be with me.” 

Paul frowned. “No, I’m fine.  It’s nothing.”  He shoved the odd sensation aside for future consideration.  “Maybe I just need a good long break.  Two weeks in a Spanish holiday resort would be nice.” 

Straker smiled slightly.  “Or the Caribbean.  I hear the sights are lovely.” 

Foster grinned as he poured himself his first coffee of the day.  “Are they ever!  All those lovely Caribbean sites, most of them falling out of their costumes because of the heat.  Does wonders for the tan, all that sun.  Good for the eyes, too, no matter what anyone says!” 

Straker smiled automatically but new it never reached his eyes.  Inside, a small flower of illicit hope died and he buried it deep, along with all the other might-have-beens of his life.  He would continue to love this man, continue to send him into danger and perhaps, one day, be the cause of his death. 

/ /And if that happens, I’ll go on doing my job as best I can though I’ll be dead where it counts.  But we did have one night, Paul.  We did have that reaching out and sharing.  I wasn’t wrong, it was the best with you. 

Never with anyone else, last and best love of my life.//

 


End file.
